


To Succumb

by profmeteor



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Bondage, Established Relationship, M/M, Sensory Deprivation, tcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 12:12:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2692520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/profmeteor/pseuds/profmeteor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes trying something new can be rewarding, sometimes annoying. Other times, it's both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Succumb

"Chillax, bro, I’ve got you safe and sound."

Raph isn’t very reassured by that — honestly, he’s expecting some weird goopy substance or a water balloon to the face or something worse, but he tries to remind himself that Mikey’s been cool about everything so far. He trusts him, even if he is a total dork. Still, helplessness doesn’t suit Raph; there’s an itchy restlessness that comes with it, something sharp and close to panic that he’s trying to ignore as Mikey shuffles around the room.

He’s blindfolded with two old bandanas, his hands are tied to the headboard, and Mikey’s on the hunt for the special noise-cancelling headphones Donnie made for all of them during a mission a few months ago. “Hey,” Raph says, when Mikey’s been quiet for a little too long, “hey, Mikey, you still there?”

"I’m here," Mikey says from across the room.

"Well hurry up. This is kinda freakin’ me out." Shit, he didn’t mean to say that. Raph shifts, kicking at the folds in the blankets just to feel something concrete besides the rope and the bed.

"Hang on — I know they’re here somewhere. Seriously, Raph, it’ll be awesome. Just think of it as," hard plastic is wrenched away from a pile of junk and Mikey grunts, "a trust exercise, except with dicks." He touches Raph’s foot as he approaches the bed with just the tip of his finger, then traces up along his shin, his thigh, his stomach and chest. He settles his hand there, palm flat, fingers spread. He taps the side of Raph’s head with the headphones. "You ready?"

Raph swallows. “You promise you’ll knock it off if I tell you to?”

"Dude, really? Come on."

"Mikey…"

Mikey kisses him, nice and slow, then kisses the corners of his mouth, one at a time. When he speaks, it’s gentle, with none of his usual flippant charm. “Yeah. I promise. No pranks.” Raph leans up for a rough kiss, bristling at himself for needing those kinds of reassurances, and Mikey lets him scrape his teeth along his bottom lip, opens obligingly when Raph shoves his tongue into his mouth, traces Raph’s tongue with his. He leans back. “Though this has some excellent prank potential, you have to admit —”

"Mikey!"

Laughing, Mikey fits the headphones over Raph, and then there’s nothing, though Raph can still feel the vibrations of Mikey’s laughter through the mattress. He can hear his own breathing, constricted though the noise is to the inside of his head. Raph swallows and can hear that, too, the way it pricks in the back of his throat. “Stop laughing, you dick,” Raph says, mostly just to see how his own voice sounds when it’s trapped in his head. It’s muted, too quiet.

Mikey kisses him again, the kiss surprising him this time — but he gives into it, licking at Mikey’s mouth and groaning when Mikey sucks at his bottom lip. The groan is quiet, too, and this time the realization isn’t unsettling.

"Go on, then," Raph says, "show me how awesome it is."

Mikey bumps their noses together, and then — then, the little dick, he hops off the bed, leaving Raph stranded. All he has is his thoughts, and the scratchy sheets, and the rough rope at his wrists, and the shallow noise of his breath. “Mikey? You’d better not leave me here. I swear, if you leave me here — this isn’t funny, Mikey, I — ah.” There, Mikey’s hand, teasing right between his legs, his thick fingers not providing nearly enough pressure — and then it’s gone again. Raph waits, biting his lip, braced for the next touch.

And — nothing.

Raph makes a noise between a snarl and a groan. “Come on, stop messing around,” and he knows he’s whining, now, but jeez, this is what he gets for letting Mikey do this.

Mikey kisses his neck, sudden and wet, and his tongue slides up to the underside of Raph’s jaw, tracing the spots that always drive Raph crazy, and of course Raph moans and squirms, he can’t help it, but he’s also still thinking about pummeling Mikey. Maybe yanking free of the ropes and pinning Mikey down, fucking him hard and rough until Mikey is a shaking, whining mess. When Mikey pulls away, all he’s left with is the cooling spit on his neck and the lust that sparks through him.

Before he can adjust to Mikey’s absence again, there’s another touch — faint, at the inside of his elbows — and another, Mikey nuzzling the inside of his thigh, then nothing — then the tips of his fingers carefully unwrapping the binds at his feet. He slides off Raph’s knee pads and immediately kisses his knees, tracing light kisses down, lifting Raph’s leg so he can nuzzle and kiss at the sensitive underside until Raph is moaning. Then: Gone again.

"I swear on my sais, Mikey, if you don’t suck me off right this fucking minute I’m going to kill you.” He’s already breathless, and the threat is weak, but Mikey’s either smart enough or kind enough to realize that there’s at least some truth to it. He kneels down on the bed, his weight a relief. He slides his hands along the inside of Raph’s legs, up his thighs, and then there’s his mouth on Raph’s cloaca, mouthing and licking at the sensitive slit. “That’s — that’s better,” Raph says. He’d be embarrassed at how quickly he unsheathes — Mikey doesn’t even have time to properly tongue him before the head of his cock is jutting out — but he’s too relieved to care.

Mikey takes to the task with glee — he keeps talking to Raph, who knows why, the vibrations of his voice just enough to drive Raph crazy. He sucks and kisses along the length of Raph’s cock, not using his hands, and then he’s licking it in long, slow stripes, flicking just under the head of the cock. Raph bucks up and curses. He’s starting to get used to this, to not being able to just grab him and fuck him the way he wants, but he’d really like to see Mikey — he loves how he sucks Raph off, the way he never really stops smiling even when his mouth’s stuffed with dick, how hard he gets just from this.

He was right about this, at least a little — there’s something fantastic about Mikey’s hands on his legs, on his plastron, at his sides, each touch turning him on more than it normally would. He feels grounded, pinned to the bed by his trust, by Mikey. “Come on,” he says, “you can do better,” trying it just to see what Mikey will do, if Mikey will listen, and he does, sucking the head of his cock into his mouth and flicking his tongue along the tip. “More,” he says. “C’mon. Mikey.”

To this, too, Mikey obliges, dipping down to suck in as much of Raph’s cock as he can, and then back up, as steady with each thrust as Mikey can be. When Raph wraps his legs around Mikey’s back, he doesn’t stop him, and he doesn’t hold down Raph’s hips when he starts to buck up into his face, fucking him like that with erratic thrusts.

"God, Mikey, you’re so good at this," he groans, clutching at the ropes. "You’re so fucking — just — yeah. Yeah." He keeps talking, not even paying attention anymore; Mikey’s become the focus of his whole being, the sharp smell of his sweat and the warm slickness of his mouth and his hands that keep clutching and petting Raph’s thighs, his shell, the unsteadiness of his breath, the hot puffs of his breath on Raph’s cock. Nothing else matters — he’s going to come, Mikey was right, he’ll never admit it but Mikey was right, this is so, so good, better than good, and he’s rutting into Mikey’s mouth, he’s —

Mikey pulls back right as Raph is on the edge, and the sound Raph makes is undignified, a loud whimper that he’s glad he can’t really hear. His cock twitches against his stomach; his thighs are shaking. The bed creaks — Mikey’s gone.

Raph’s anger crests. “Get back here! I was so close — Mikey!” When he struggles this time, it hurts, the ropes chafing his wrists, but he doesn’t care, he just wants Mikey back. Not just to get him off — he wants him, the low vibrations of his voice, his smell, the gentle nuzzling of his nose; he can’t stand to be alone here, again, in the black nothingness of the bed. “Mikey,” he says again, desperate this time.

When he comes back, Raph yanks against the ropes, trying desperately to wrap his arms around him. “God damn it,” he says, “god damn it, don’t leave again. Let me go. Let me have my hands. I’ll keep everything else, I just want my hands.”

Mikey straddles him, and it’s immediately apparent what he was doing — his thighs are slick, and when he sits back against Raph’s cock, so is he. This time, when he talks, Raph can feel it through his whole body, and he goes still, listening as hard as he can. Mikey guides the head of Raph’s cock against his cloaca; his prick is hard, and the base of it glides against Raph’s cock as he pushes in. But as he does this, he’s working at the ropes, too — and the moment Raph’s hands are free, he clutches at Mikey — at his sides, his thighs, his hips, not knowing where he wants to grab, wanting everything.

Oblivious to Raph’s desperation, or perhaps goaded by it, Mikey starts to ride him with long, deep thrusts. It’s unfair, the way he’s fucking him. It’s unfair that he can make Raph want this so much. It’s unfair that he can still tease Raph, brushing his hands along the sensitive skin of his neck, thumbing at his arms, leaning just out of reach when Raph tries to grab his face.

Fine, Raph thinks; if he wants to be like that, if he wants to drive Raph up the wall, then two can play at that game. He clutches Mikey’s hips and starts to drive up into him, rough and fast, and he knows he’s being too loud, knows that his curses and moans are probably loud enough to be heard through the door, but they’re muffled to him and he can’t stop himself.

He doesn’t last long. His orgasm takes him by surprise — not just the suddenness of it, but the strength of it; it hits him in his gut, first, and rolls through his whole body. He shudders through it, unable to think, a tingling in the back of his skull that flows out like water, knows only the way Mikey is tight around him, knows only Mikey, only the black muffled not-quiet of the moment and the scratchiness of the bed and the pleasure that goes on, and on, and on — and then he knows quiet.

*

"I told you," Mikey says later, between peppering Raph’s neck and face with kisses. "I told you.”

"Shut up," he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. "It was okay.”

"Whatever, dude, you were totally into it.”

Raph is too wrung-out to do much more than push at Mikey’s shoulder, but it elicits a little oof anyway. “Alright, alright. Just — just c’mere, you dork.” Mikey obliges, nestling in under Raph’s arm and draping an arm over Raph’s stomach. The room is dark, and quiet, but Raph can pick out the posters on the wall, the junk on the shelves, and he lets himself drift for a while, not thinking, just observing, listening, letting himself readjust.

"Admit it," Mikey mumbles after a while.

"Okay." Raph pets Mikey’s head. "Your ideas aren’t so bad…every once in a while." He flicks his nose. "Once in a blue moon. Every few decades…"

Mikey shakes his head, but he’s still smiling as he drifts off — and so is Raph, when he finally succumbs to the black waves of sleep.


End file.
